Snow Day
by CodependentCollision
Summary: Chloe has particular traditions when it comes to snow days and Beca is just along for the ride.


Beca wakes up to the unmistakable sensation of someone jumping on her bed. No, not someone. She doesn't even need to open her eyes.

Chloe. Is jumping. On her bed. Beca cracks one blurry eye open and sees the fuzzy outline of her best friend, barely backlit from the pallor light of way-too-fucking-early o'clock on an overcast morning.

_Nnnfgh_, she protests, lips stuck together in sleep and brain too foggy to form actual words, but Chloe ignores her and keeps jumping.

_Nnnfgh_, she repeats, and gains enough motor function to catch Chloe's ankle and tug. Chloe flails a little and faceplants into the mattress with a sharp, hot exhale against the back of Beca's knee.

She wiggles and shifts until she's mostly right-side-up and facing Beca, pointing to the window, smile splitting her face in two.

Beca grimaces, rubs at her eyes, and blinks into the realization that it's not just overcast, it's snowing. Big, fat flakes piling up so far that all she sees is an expanse of untouched white.

Chloe is grinning hard and she starts to bounce again, rocking Beca to the rhythm of her chant:

_Snow Day! Snow Day!_

Beca reminds her that they're not eight years old, that they are in fact in on a well deserved break from work, and most importantly, don't actually have to go to second grade today.

Chloe rolls her eyes, like _duh_. That's what a snow day _means_, she reminds Beca, and tugs her out of bed.

* * *

Chloe insists they start by eating cereal and watching cartoons in their pajamas on the living room floor.

Since Chloe stayed over really late and just decided to crash on the couch the night before instead of going back to her place, she doesn't even _have_ pajamas on. So she digs through Beca's dresser and finds the ridiculous red and green plaid pajama set her Aunt Catherine got her for Christmas last year. The sleeves and pants are too short for her, and Beca blushes as Chloe grins and strips down right there, tugging the shirt over her head.

She makes Beca wear her slightly tattered terrycloth bathrobe over her tshirt and boxers (though she tried to talk Beca out of both of those first) and mourns her utter lack of slippers resembling small furry animals.

* * *

On snow days when Chloe was a kid, her mom would pull out the newspaper and together they would go through: clipping coupons, searching Classifieds for jobs and sales, doing the word jumbles and reading the comics.

Beca doesn't get the paper delivered because she isn't home that much, but she had picked one up with her coffee two days ago and hadn't put the recycling bin out yet.

That's good enough for Chloe, so they split up the sections to begin with, Beca takes a handful of colored pens and the Classifieds (asking Chloe again what exactly she's supposed to be looking _for_ and is told _upcoming yard sales_ and _a decent job so I can keep you in those expensive headphones you like so much, Beca!_) while Chloe reads the comics aloud, with voices.

Then they start (and abandon, Beca _cannot_ figure out V- R-E-O-L) the word jumbles and move on to coupon clipping.

Beca doesn't really need two dollars off her next purchase of any Rogaine product, but Chloe insists and grabs the scissors.

* * *

For lunch Chloe demands the only acceptable Snow Day Lunch: tomato soup and grilled cheese.

Amazingly, these are things that Beca both has ingredients for and actually knows how to cook. Chloe butters the bread, opens the soup can and sets the table.

By the time Beca brings the steaming pot to the table, Chloe has cut a smiley face into her sandwich.

* * *

They go outside to play in the snow after lunch.

Or more accurately, Beca goes out to shovel the driveway and scatter rock salt on the front stoop, when Chloe nails her with a snowball to the back of her neck.

While Beca blinks in shock, Chloe snatches her duck hunter hat off by the left ear flap and tears off down the driveway, sliding along the hidden ice.

It's on after that, a full-out snow war of epic proportions.

* * *

They eventually come inside to thaw. Chloe shakes the snow out of her hair like a dog and peels off her wet hoodie and gloves. She kicks off her sneakers and heads for the kitchen, calling over her shoulder to Beca, asking where the she keeps the cocoa mix.

* * *

By the time the sun sets, the plows and salt trucks have gone by at least twice and the roads are more than clear enough for Chloe to go home. But sparse, light flakes are still floating down and Chloe insists the Snow Day ain't over 'til the last flake falls.

Chloe wants to play board games by candle light. All Beca has is a Warm Vanilla Sugar candle her mom left over last week, Scrabble with some of the tiles missing, and Yatzee with only four dice. They invent a game of spelling words before the other person can roll two sets of doubles that's so complicated to score they forget how after a round and a half.

Beca was so winning anyways, since Chloe was only spelling things like _is _and _home_ and _snow_ and _beka_ (there are no 'c' tiles).

* * *

The candle burns down and Chloe suddenly remembers they _do_ have electricity and she darts for the remote, flipping through in search of a good movie.

They end up on an episode of _The Office_ on TBS, which turns in to a marathon of _The Office_ on DVD, which turns in to Chloe quoting lines from episodes they aren't watching into the pillow shoved against Beca's thigh.

Beca maybe quotes lines back.

* * *

Chloe insists on staying over again since it's too late to drive in the snow. She refuses to sleep on the couch this time, complaining that it was too hard (and responds to _herself_ with a 'that's what she said!' joke) and too cold (Beca gave her like, four blankets) and too lonely (Beca... can't argue with that). So Chloe grins and makes for the bedroom.

Beca can hear her jumping on the bed.

She surveys the living room one last time. There's a bowl with dregs of Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the coffee table, the ransacked newspaper spread across the kitchen counter full of cut-out holes and colored scribbles, Chloe's snow-damp pink gloves by the door. The bastard child of Yatzee and Scrabble is still scattered across the carpet, Chloe was supposed to put it away after her last turn.

The tiles spell _home is my beka_.

Beca shuts off the fireplace and goes to bed.


End file.
